


the only one my arms will ever hold

by glorious_clio



Category: The Lady Astronaut Series - Mary Robinette Kowal
Genre: Earth First, F/M, Relationship Stuff, The Calculating Stars, The Fated Sky, The Relentless Moon, and then smut i guess, which wasn't what i set out to write i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_clio/pseuds/glorious_clio
Summary: They've talked about her mission for the past week, but Nathaniel has to tell Elma what happened to him while she was gone. It's the stuff of her nightmares, really. But against all odds, they're both alive.
Relationships: Elma York/Nathaniel York
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	the only one my arms will ever hold

And then there suddenly appeared before me,  
The only one my arms will ever hold.  
I heard somebody whisper, "Please adore me."  
And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“I want to talk some things out with you,” he said softly. Nathaniel cupped her chin in his hand and kissed Elma’s forehead. 

After three years away (with 53 terrifying days out of communication), his touch felt incredible to her. She’d been out of medical for a week and the ease of Earth, even a post-meteor Earth was a rhythm to fall into. Home from another debrief, she had fallen into his arms like falling back to the planet. 

“Don’t tell me in three years you didn’t learn how to balance our cheque book.”

He laughed. “No, not quite so dire as that.”

“In that case, let’s make dinner.” She pulled back and his hand slipped back to his side. 

“You just want the novelty of making things with real ingredients.” 

“You caught me,” she said. She slipped out of her shoes and into the kitchen.

Nathaniel followed her, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders creeping up to his ears. 

The newer apartment was a fair bit bigger than the studio with the murphy bed, but the kitchen was still small. Nathaniel perched on a stool in the corner by the refrigerator, a dead zone that Elma had plans for more storage space. 

They hadn’t talked about Earth First. Somehow she knew she was about to get the full debriefing. She knew a little, knew about cutting off communication, about the assassination of Nicole’s husband. Kenneth Wargin was a friend, and it was hard to come home to that news. A lot of grief was being kicked up (and seeing Ruby’s and Estevan’s family didn’t help). Aunt Esther’s passing she expected, but all the same. Elma had an appointment with her therapist next week. 

She washed her hands before inspecting the contents of the fridge. There was leftover brisket that she could reheat, and the tomatoes on the counter needed to be eaten before they went bad. It wouldn’t do to waste tomatoes. There was a cucumber and a few other veggies sitting in the fridge, and a stale bit of bread. 

“Gazpacho and leftovers,” she reported, pulling down the food processor. 

“Need any help?”

“No, this will do most of the work,” she said waving the cord at him before plugging it in. 

The food processor was loud as she chopped up the ingredients into small chunks. Elma could still hear Nathaniel thinking, watching her. Gazpacho was easy, though, the food processor did all the work. She liked it blitzed enough to combine, but not smooth enough to resemble the early days of space food. The horror of those purees haunted her taste buds. The veggies and bread plopped cheerfully as she dumped them into a large serving bowl. She added salt, pepper, and olive oil to abandon before tucking the bowl in the fridge to rest. 

“Shall I start heating up the brisket, or are you ready to talk?”

He stood up and rested his hands on her shoulders. Elma felt her anxiety spike, growing hot and edgy. 

He still didn’t say anything, staring at a spot on the wall behind her, his breathing measured and controlled. His thumbs traced small circles as he apparently searched for words he still couldn’t find. This moment seemed to stretch on and on. 

“You’re trying to be comforting but you’re making it worse, I need you to spit it out, because what I’m about to spiral into cannot possibly be as bad as-”

“I was poisoned by Earth First.”

Elma’s mouth dropped. 

“Ok I stand corrected,” she managed before staggering to the stool he vacated. 

He crouched in front of her, taking her hands. He kept going now, the dam had broken and all that had been kept from her came spilling forth. “It was at the Wargins’ apartment. Poker night. One of the bottles of alcohol had been poisoned, and I hadn’t eaten all day. It hit my ulcer and it probably saved all of us. No one else was poisoned, and it kicked off the investigations in earnest.”

_“That’s how you found out about the ulcer?!”_

“I missed you, Elma. I was not taking care of myself those early months. Nicole and Myrtle put me on the right path, and then Herschel came out, and then Tommy. 

“I’m not happy about the ulcer, or the poisoning, but it worked out,” he finished.

“And no one told me, just like no one would tell Parker about his wife. Is this how I would have found out you were dead? I would have come home and you would have been poisoned, and dead and no one told me? Someone would have faked your letters?”

“Well I would like to think you would have noticed it wasn’t me writing letters to you. Parker never wrote again to his wife.” 

“That’s- that’s not-” Her voice was shaking now, her arms crossed and she was curling into herself. Nathaniel’s hands on her knees didn’t even feel warm to her now. “You were poisoned! You almost died and no one told me!”

Nathaniel sighed. “I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m telling you now, Elma. Now that we’re in the same orbit.”

“Don’t. Don’t say it like that.”

He reached up to wipe some of her tears away. “Elma, there’s no way I could say it that wouldn’t make you feel guilty. But I promise you, I wanted you to go, because you wanted to go. If I hadn’t been at poker that night, someone else would have been poisoned, or maybe lots of someones. Think about who went to those. Hell, it could have just as easily been the Wargins. I’m willing to bet none of them had ulcers as a warning sign.”

She sobbed, fell forward a bit to cradle her face in her hands, her elbows on her knees. Nathaniel let her cry, rubbing his hands over her arms. 

The endless storm of sobs washed over her. He didn’t bother whispering soothing nothings, she needed to let loose before she could come back to him. At least she wasn’t running to the bathroom. He hadn’t hurt her that badly. He hoped. She was still right here with him in a small kitchen that she was rearranging when he wasn’t looking. 

Her tears slowed, and he passed her a clean dish towel. 

She was still trembling when she passed it back, so he pulled her off the stool into his arms, leading her out to the couch. He just held her, let her hands play over him. She needed him to just exist. They’d been so close to losing each other, there was no way around it. It’s why he was going to Mars with her next time she left. 

“You were poisoned,” she whimpered. 

“If it’s any comfort, I don’t think I was the target,” he said. 

“I beg your pardon, but you were definitely _a_ target, Nathaniel,” she said.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. But we worked the problem.”

“Not everyone survived, though,” said Elma. 

Nathaniel nodded. Not the mission, not the three years she was gone, not the explosion at IAC. He told her what he knew of Icarus, even though that was mostly Nicole’s story. The trials were due to start soon, and he’d be called to testify. Elma needed to know what happened before sitting in a courtroom, how the moon colony had been so dangerously compromised. She moaned at the close calls her friends suffered. 

Fresh tears dampened his shirt. He didn’t care about that. If she needed to cry, she could cry all she wanted. He was happy to be her sponge right now, because she was here and they both survived against some pretty terrible odds. Hell, they survived the meteorite, because they happened to be out of town. 

The way he figured, they were both pretty lucky. And they were both tough as nails. 

He rested his cheek on top of her head, feeling the warmth pouring off her skull. Her hair was starting to smell like Earth-Elma again, it was amazing how recycled air can cling, amazing how diet can change everything about you. Maybe he needed to just hold her as much as she needed to touch him.

There wasn't a clock in the living room, they weren’t sure how long they grieved their experiences. They used to have a mantle clock on a bookcase, but that was dust now. It had been a wedding present. Now, they didn’t even celebrate their anniversary. It was too painful. And they didn’t really have anything to tick the time way, apart from quiet wrist watches.

He loved her so much, and was happy to be clung to. Happy her tears were slowing again. Together, together. The best word in any language. 

She sniffled, shifted, pulled herself up. “If you don’t get on the next mission to Mars, I’m not going without you.” She looked utterly sure and it twisted his heart. He kissed her palms. 

“That’s not going to happen, I’m going. But I appreciate your saying so.”

She nodded, closed her eyes, collapsed against him again. Her tears stopped, but she wasn’t done holding him, being held by him... until her stomach rumbled. Nathaniel laughed. That was the only way she kept time now.

“Hey, you stay here. I’ll fix up some plates and bowls.”

“No, I’ll help,” she said. 

They untangled briefly, then caught hands again as they went back to the tiny kitchen. 

She gently reheated some of the brisket on the stovetop, letting the outsides char deliciously. He pulled down plates, bowls, silverware so she could ladle the gazpacho. Nathaniel wisely fixed a pair of martinis. 

Dinner was quiet, and Nathaniel did the dishes while Elma took an efficient shower. 

He was drying the dishes when she came out of the bathroom, steamed and warm and pliable. She wrapped her arms around him and snuggled down into his shoulders. “Leave the rest until morning, Nathaniel. It’s time for bed.”

He rested his hands on hers, tipped his head back to touch hers. “Copy.” 

She burrowed deeper, her arms tightened, and then she released him. 

He followed her into the bedroom. She was already wearing the tops of his softest, oldest pair of pajamas, and she tossed the bottoms at him. 

Well ok then. 

Elma crawled into bed and collapsed as if feeling gravity anew. He briefly used the bathroom to brush his teeth and et cetera, then made sure all the lights were off. She cuddled up to him as he slid into bed. The weight of the other anchored them both in place, and neither of them moved. There was nothing to say, nothing to do but hold true.   
  
  
  


The next thing either of them knew were giant flashes of lightning, thunder that seemed to rattle all of Kansas, and their weather radio turning on. Their eyes snapped open. 

Nathaniel reached over to flip on the bedside lamp to realize the power was out. 

“Dammit,” he murmured. He reached under the bed to one of their emergency kits, pulled out two flashlights and passed one to Elma. 

“I’ll call the power company,” she said, dragging herself out of bed and flicking on the flashlight. 

Nathaniel pulled the radio closer to listen. Storms in Kansas could be severe. It wasn’t especially smart that he’d opted for a garden level apartment, but the look on Elma’s face when she saw the green outside their windows was still worth it. 

In an emergency, they could go down three levels to the communal laundry room. That’s what the go-bags were for. They’d learned plenty of lessons in 1952. 

Despite the blinding lightning and terrific crashes, it seemed that it was no worse than a severe thunderstorm. Hail damage yes, but the Yorks didn’t own a car, they rented the apartment. Things seemed fine, just... loud. Bright. 

Elma came back to bed. “The power outage was already reported. They’ll work on it as soon as it’s safe.”

Nathaniel kept his flashlight on, propped up by the bed to counteract some of the flashing lightning. 

“It kinda makes me wish we had some blackout curtains,” he replied. 

“Yeah, it’s going to be hard to fall back asleep,” Elma agreed. She had an arm draped over her eyes to block out the insistent flashes. 

“You’re still on leave, though. We can sleep in.”

“Mmmm.”

“How are you feeling?”

She took a minute to answer. The thunder rolled outside, shuddering through them to cover her silence. 

“I don’t know,” she confessed a moment later. “I might not know for a bit. I guess I see why you didn’t say anything, especially worrying about the spies or copycats. I just keep thinking about coming home to all my friends dead, to you dead, and I don’t think I could live through a second meteor strike like that.” 

She pulled her arm away from her face and gazed at him as steadily as the lightning and flashlight would allow. 

He reached out and traced her cheek. “Ok.” 

“That’s it? Just ok?”

“I had similar thoughts, _have_ similar thoughts every time you get in a rocket.” 

There was a loud crash outside - Nathaniel got up to check. “A tree went down. It’s in the road; it doesn’t look like it hit any cars.”

Elma shuddered, thinking about other trees in other roads. “Come back to bed.” 

He turned back to bed, and she looked adrift in it, small compared to the size of the bigger bed he splurged on. Her voice was brittle as they both remembered that particular hike. Nathaniel drew the curtains as tightly as possible before crossing the room back to her again. 

“I suppose I should enjoy storms, after three years of no weather,” she said, putting on a brave face.

Nathaniel shook his head. “You don’t have to do anything about the weather.”

“Except worry?”

He kissed her then. Because the weather, the _climate,_ is why they had to leave. They’d have to say goodbye again to people they loved. Nicole. Herschel, and Doris with him. The Amish grocery store owner who sold them their groceries. Maybe Rachel and Thomas would find their homes on Mars, but....

They couldn’t take everyone and it often went unspoken between them. The meteor had changed so much. And to lose each other would be...

Nathaniel rolled her underneath him, and she spread her legs to cradle him with her hips. She traced her hands across his bare back, mapping the smooth skin under her fingertips. Lightning flickered, fighting the circle on the ceiling from their balanced flashlight. 

He managed her buttons one handed, and then his mouth was on her breasts. She arched into him. Elma murmured something, over and over, and he finally registered the word, “ _stay, stay, stay..._ ” he moved to the column of her neck and up back to her lips to stop the litany. She was the one who left. 

Instead, he said, “I’ll stay, until it’s time for us both to go.” 

“Yes.” She surged up and kissed him again, snaking one hand down to pull at his pajama bottoms. He slid a hand up her back and pulled the tops away from her torso, with a little bit of wiggling on her part, and a gasp as electricity coursed through them both where they made contact. 

There was a violence to their kisses now, she kept nipping at his lips, his fingers were digging into her waist, sure to leave bruises in the morning. He’d kiss them better if he did, for now he wanted to consume her, or be consumed by her.

They could have kissed all night, kissed until the storm stopped and he would have been satisfied, or something like it. But Elma began rocking her hips, whimpering a bit, demanding more. 

Nathaniel pulled back and wrestled with the pajama bottoms, finally pulling himself free from his boxers. Elma pushed down her knickers and threw them across the room. Nathaniel rolled off her and took a condom from the bedside drawer, knocking the flashlight down in his rush. It rolled under the bed. 

Her laughter was cut short by his mouth on hers, taking control again. She slid a hand down to her clit, to see how wet and ready she was for him. For his part, he rolled the condom on his cock, then covered her again. They took their time getting lined up, making sure she was ready, but even so when he finally pushed into her, there was an edge to it, a desperation. He waited for her body to relax, and pushed further until she was muttering again. 

The storm around them was louder, closer, but they didn’t notice. 

Elma felt somehow open to him, in a new way, in the old way. She hadn’t realized there had been a barrier between them, but something, maybe his confession, maybe the storm, had knocked it down. And now, _now_ , her legs were wrapped around Nathaniel’s hips, making him work harder, but drawing him deeper. She arched into the changed angle, and he groaned.

Nathaniel found the hickey he had given her shoulder a few days ago and planted one right next to it. His eyes were closed, he couldn’t see the lightning, or the lighting was in his own mind’s eyes as she _pulsed_ around him, alive and real, _he_ was alive and real and he finally told her. It was such a _fucking_ relief. Her hand found his scar again and scratched her nails across it, before reaching to grip his hair as she tried to find purchase, a rhythm. 

Nathaniel helped her, reaching down his hand to rub her clit in an elliptical movement that she loved. She preened and keened underneath him.

He felt the tightness that usually meant his own release, but she was muttering _“stay stay”_ again so he pulled out, caught his breath. He was lightheaded and _ready._ But instead, he pushed his fingers inside her, his thumb on her clit, to hurry her to her climax. She shuddered against his hand, with a strangled sound that might have been his name, might have been a curse. Might have been a blessing. With his other and he wiped his own brow, and he worked at her, until finally he could feel her clenching around his first two fingers as they curled inside her. 

He pushed himself up again, draping himself across her. 

“You’re crying again,” he noticed, flinching back, but she quickly pulled him back down to kiss her. 

“ _Stay_ ,” she commanded, and helped him line himself up again, checking to ensure the condom was secure. 

He sank inside again and she exhaled, as if making room for him. His sticky hand was on her breast, but she didn’t notice, wrapping her legs around his hips again, and clenching around him, a silent plea to _come_ already. 

He didn’t need nearly so much encouragement, as his entire body tensed, and then collapsed against her in absolute release. 

The storm was quieter now, either that or they couldn't hear properly, which was a possibility. 

“Need me to move?” he managed.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, her mouth against his shoulder. He was long and lean, not too heavy for right now. And she liked his mass against hers. “Not yet.” 

He was growing soft inside her. 

“Besides, if you stay, I can _almost_ feel you getting ready again.”

He chuckled. “I’m not sure I have that quick of a recovery in me,” he admitted. 

“Stay anyway.” 

He kissed her cheek, blotting her tears. 

They stayed that way a few more minutes until Elma was forced to admit that it was getting uncomfortable. Regretfully, she pushed him over and slid out of bed. She took care of some necessaries in the pitch-black bathroom, then brought a wet washcloth out to Nathaniel so he could clean himself up. He took care of himself and the condom, then retrieved the flashlight and turned it off before coming back to spoon her. 

“I have one more question,” she said as they were drifting toward sleep. The lightning had eased, the thunder muffled, but dawn was beginning to turn the edges of their curtains a soft gold.

“Anything.”

“Why did you wait until now to tell me?”

He planted a few kisses on the crown of her head. “I was selfish. I wanted to have some time with you, celebrating your mission, your homecoming. But you needed to know before the trials began. I’m supposed to testify. So is Parker, by the way, about possible sabotage to your mission.”

“But we don’t think we were sabotaged.”

Nathaniel shrugged. “The lawyers have already briefed him.”

“Well, when you testify, I’ll be there,” she said. “You don’t even have to ask.” 

He squeezed her tighter, briefly. “I missed you so much.” 

She pulled his hand to her mouth and kissed the inside of his wrist. “I promise I missed you more.”

Rather than argue, Nathaniel thought sweetly of her next trip to Mars, his first. He couldn’t wait to see what she had seen. That they’d hit the planet at the same time.

It would be hard, it might even be hell. But they would be together. 

He was just falling asleep when the bedside lamp turned back on. 

“Power’s back,” Elma chuckled. 

Nathaniel reached over and turned it off. “Let’s pretend it isn’t.” 

“Copy that.” 

She followed him into sleep. 


End file.
